Looking at the stove, the soup was bubbling. Time to serve it. Grabbing a bowl, I poured in the soup then grabbed a spoon and took it to her.Silently,...she took it from me. Resting it on the arm of the sofa. She then started to take small spoonfuls from the edge of the bowl. Blowing on each time before drinking it.Leaving her to eat, I returned to the kitchen and tried the number I had got from Mr. Grimshaw. There was no answered after twenty or so rings so I hung up and tried again. Just incase. I finish applying my makeup, leaving my hair andlipstick for later. These I like to do after I have finished dressing, sothey will be fresh. I look at myself in the mirror above the table,knowing that my makeup is what Mistress expects-perfect for a young woman,not overdone.There is a full-length mirror in the maid's quarters. I take off my robe,folding it and gently placing it on my bed, and then watch myself in themirror as I begin to put on my lingerie. A black satin bra; it holds thebreast. Thinking that this was just Amber cheating on her fiancé, Jay figured the show was over….but he was wrong! To Jay’s further surprise, Amber continued to stand there with her panties around mid-thigh, and her boobs swaying in front of her, with her hand out. Steve reached into his back pocket and pulled out a bag of what appeared to be smack, dropping it into her open palm. Amber nodded with a smile pulling at the edges of her mouth as she eyed the little bag in her hand. Steve slapped her tits. Not because my father said it would be the hardest — I knew it wouldn’t be that hard for me, but it was a lesson I didn’t feel I needed, and this made it seem so pointless, such a waste. From the cargo of twenty-four slave girls I had to choose one who would die — slowly and painfully, while the others had to watch, and while I would watch, too. Now that I had learned to bear my own pain, according to my father, I had to learn to bear that of others. “But they are your merchandise,” I said to.
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